


For a Spin

by ToxicBabes



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Car Accidents, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, One Shot, Rally!AU, Romance, no injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 11:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30037788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicBabes/pseuds/ToxicBabes
Summary: Maxim and Timur go for a night drive.
Relationships: Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda/Timur "Glaz" Glazkov
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	For a Spin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cerosin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerosin/gifts).



> This is a gift fic to my friend Cerosin as it is her birthday! 
> 
> There is a fic that precedes this one, [Left in the Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933677), which is more focused on rally racing itself if you are interested, along with some classic kapglaz romance. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

In their downtime, they rarely spent long off the road and when they were, they were in the garage making adjustments to the car or applying a new paint job. This winter they did not venture abroad to take part in any races. Last year closed with them landing in third place, a valiant effort made and they were happy to stand on the podium at the very least. Following some technical difficulties with the manufacturer they drove for, it quickly became apparent that they would sit this year out. 

Part of Maxim was relieved for it since Timur had sustained a mild back injury in a subsequent crash after their big one in Turkey. They used this time to recuperate and for Timur, it gave him more time to spend with his father. Occasionally they did a few meetups in the Vladivostok for interviews and other PR matters Maxim cared little for, most of them being obligations and a handful for connecting with their fans.

While they were not competing in this year’s world championship, they had their eyes set for the Expedition Trophy, a cross-country rally that spanned from the west to the east of Russia. It was a long trek, one which would require another driver. Maxim had someone in mind- Lera Melnikova, an old friend and fellow driver he met through Alexsandr. 

It would be some cash out of their own pockets to pay the entry fee and they would be responsible for their own vehicle, though they had the money set aside. They had their eyes on doing this race for a long time now, though greater responsibilities and an actual championship title often got in the way. With all this free time and extensive planning done, they were sure now was the time to seize the opportunity.

For now, they relaxed while they could. It was boring to have little to do and they were used to being on their feet all the time, but they knew the second they were racing again they would be reminiscing about the days of lying in bed until the afternoon.

The mornings were typical, filled with all kinds of bickering from everyone. Complaining about the stray dogs barking in the streets, how cold it was, almost forgetting there was an appointment for today. Though Maxim offered to help and next thing Timur knew, he was sitting alone in the apartment and waiting for him and his father to return home from the doctors. 

He ventured into the garage and occupied himself with finishing the paint job they started a couple days ago. At first, the change seemed like a fantastic idea. They were always keen for their usual palette of red, blue, and white. This time, Timur had gotten his hands on some green paint and Maxim had no qualms about it. 

By the time he finished polishing the car, he heard the thud of doors closing and an engine falling quiet. He glanced up and greeted his father with a wave, smiling at how Maxim and him bickered over if he would need help getting settled down, to which Timur’s father had dismissed him with a joking scowl, feigning offence at how Maxim could imply he was getting frail by showing so much concern. It warmed Timur’s heart. He was relieved they got on so well and it was comforting to know there was someone out there looking out for his aging father.

Maxim sauntered up to the open garage and wrinkled his nose at the scent of solvents. 

“Looks good,” he commented, admiring the sheen. “Think we can take her for a ride later?”

Timur wiped a hand onto his stained overalls and regarded the car with a prideful look. “Yeah, maybe after dinner,” he suggested and passed a clean cloth over the surface to remove any residual product. “It’s… bright.”

They hummed in agreement and fell into quietness, though a kind with an odd tension. Finally breaking, Timur made an expression of uncertainty, unsure if he liked the vibrant lime green. It was good they didn’t take this paint to Maxim’s precious Lada, but an old beater they would do local races in for fun.

“I’m sure it’ll grow on us,” Maxim assured him as he stepped closer, his hands clasped together behind his back as he took in the fumes lingering in the air. “Reminds me of those energy drinks.”

Timur agreed with a soft chuckle then he turned his gaze to him. Much easier on the eyes. “So, how is he?” He asked, referring to his father. They stepped out of the garage for some fresh air.

From the lack of concern on his face, everything was okay. Maxim reached into his pocket for his cigarettes, finally able to have a smoke. He never liked smoking around Timur’s father, aware of his declining health and the never-ending battle to quit. “Doctor says he’s actually doing better,” he remembered and gave Timur a reassuring smile. “His blood pressure is better. Lungs are still the same but not getting worse.” 

The information appeared to ease any worries that had been occupying Timur all afternoon. “Thanks for taking him,” he murmured and nudged Maxim lightly in an affectionate manner. “You really didn’t have to.”

Maxim shrugged it off and tapped the ash off his cigarette. His eyes were focused on the street in front of them, studying the passing cars. “It’s nothing, I wouldn’t be doing anything else either way,” he told him to assure him from any guilt. “Plus, I think he prefers me taking him. He says you worry too much.”

The bickering and nagging from Timur never seemed to end when it came to his father’s health, but he only meant it out of care. They only had one another left in their tiny family and Timur wasn’t taking any chances. He chastised his father for drinking too much and reminded him to take his medications regardless of how many arguments they got into about him being annoying. In the end, it was out of love and once he left the country for a race, his father had all the time to himself to fall out of good habits and routines.

When the evening rolled in, the apartment smelled of dinner cooking on the stove. The windows were opened by a crack to keep the place ventilated despite the frigid temperatures outside. Timur grew up used to being suffocated by the scent of cigarette smoke lingering in the stagnant air from when his father would stand by the window to smoke instead of stepping out onto the frozen balcony.

By the time Maxim was plating the food, Timur was wiping his hands dry from washing the dishes. He gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and touched a hand to his lower back where his shirt was slightly damp. It was hot in the kitchen over the stove, but by now Maxim was used to it, taking on the role as the chef in the house. They toned down the affections when Timur’s father padded into the kitchen, complimenting the aroma in the air.

Daylight was shorter in these months, but nothing stopped them from putting on their heavy coats and stepping outside. They loitered in the garage after they ate, minds growing weary in their rest and damn were they bored without anything to work towards. The next rallies they looked forward to would take place abroad in completely different terrains, something the local roads could not prepare them for. After a cigarette, Maxim nudged Timur to get in the car.

“I miss Finland a lot,” Maxim mentioned as he buckled his belt. “You liked it, right?”

“Yeah. It was fun- and chaotic,” Timur agreed and reminisced on those memories of the lanes of white snow, how the air prickled his face. At this point, he was itching for a race and he didn’t care what roads they had to drive on. On asphalt, on ice, or the bumpy roads of the Kenyan safari rally which Maxim told horrible tales of, Timur craved for the exhilaration. “Argentina last year was better.”

The car rolled down their narrow street, the engine rumbling heartily and Timur felt bare without his notebook clasped in his lap. 

“But we didn’t win that one,” Maxim recalled, speaking slow as he concentrated on the frosty road. He paused when an awareness washed over him and he reminded himself of a past conversation they had not to focus too heavily on losses. “The scenery is nice though, I’ll give them that.”

“And remember that hotel room we got?” Timur continued. “With the mini bar and it had really nice champagne. God, I’d kill for some right now.”

The memories left them smiling, their hearts aching for another experience like that. Maxim chuckled and glanced over at him. “You threw up so hard after that,” he murmured. It was funny now, but when it was actually happening it wasn’t a sight to see nor hear nor smell. Luckily everything landed in the toilet otherwise the hotel staff would have been in for a nasty shock. “Unfortunately I don’t think this Expedition Trophy is going to be as luxurious.”

Timur hummed in agreement. “It’ll be a challenge, but we got this,” he said and rubbed his cold hands. Struck by a memory, he opened the glovebox and found a pair of mitts. At first he offered them to Maxim who refused them, preferring the direct contact of the icy steering wheel against his palms. “Lera sent in some dashcam videos of her in Belarus. You saw it, right?”

Cautious as not to skid, Maxim didn’t dare to drive as fast as he usually would. “Yeah, she’s a good driver,” he said, not having to think about it at all. “Takes risks, lives on the edge.”

Just like him and that was why he liked her. Their conversation paused when they sensed the road conditions were more treacherous than they were accustomed to, even as rally drivers. In this silence, hailstones drummed against the roof of the car and bounced off the windshield with a ferocity that they worried the glass would crack. The headlights could barely penetrate the darkness of the night. 

“Where are we even going?” Timur thought to ask, seeing as it was eight o’clock and snowing heavily. There were evenings during the summer where they drove out to the coast, but at this time and during this season, going to the coast was asking for a case of hypothermia. 

Maxim responded with a grunt, one of uncertainty. “Just for a drive,” he muttered after a long, gruelling moment of skidding over black ice. “Wish we had those studded tyres, hm? The ones we use in Sweden. Would make this less dangerous.”

“Putting expensive tyres on this thing? It’s on its last leg, Maxim.” Timur raised a brow and gave a humorous huff, his grinning quickly cut off by the car hitting a shallow pothole. “Jesus, these roads are awful.”

They could complain for hours about the state of the roads in Russia in comparison to other places they visited. With a route mapped in his head, Maxim figured it would be best to loop back to the apartment than play his luck in these conditions. 

There were times when driving in harsh winter conditions was actually peaceful, but on second thought that was during the morning with his eyes straining from snow blindness. Although he knew that even if the conditions were perfect, there was always something to comment on. The weather, the car, the road, breakfast not agreeing with his stomach, the radio putting on terrible music, an old memory that pissed him off. 

For now, he had his thoughts on getting home without getting into a vehicular accident. It was difficult to make out anything far ahead and he glanced at the rear view mirror to find that there was no one behind them either. For miles on end, the darkness stretched on and he was beginning to wonder if he missed a turn. Once in a while, the tyres would lose their traction, leaving them to slide helplessly and Maxim did what he could to avoid spinning out of control. 

“And you were the one asking if _I_ wanted to drive,” Timur brought up with an uneasy smile, a hand gripping his seatbelt. It wasn’t that he was a bad driver by any means, but between the two of them, Maxim was far more experienced with getting himself out of close calls. “Woah, go easy-“

“Ah, that’s what I’m doing. You think I’m going this fast for fun?” Maxim interrupted him and took a hand off the wheel to lightly smack his thigh. The contact lingered for another few seconds then the car jostled and he went back to clutching the steering wheel with both hands and an iron grip as if it would make the car skid less. “Trust me, alright?”

It was evident the car was sliding from how it was sailing across the surface of invisible ice. Maxim did a good job at controlling it as best he could. They rolled into a pothole which sent the hind wheels gliding and there was something centrifugal about the inside of the car that threatened to make them hurl up dinner. The tyres found traction when they rolled part way off the road and almost into a ditch.

Maxim’s relieved sigh punctured the quiet stillness. “Are you okay?” He asked even though the car merely jostled when it came to its halt. It was a reflex at this point from the amount of times they managed to crash. 

“Yeah,” Timur answered and undid his seatbelt. “That didn’t sound good.” 

The wind lashed their faces when they stepped out of the car, feet sinking into the deep snow and they gingerly made their way onto the road. The hazard lights blinked in an almost miserable way and Maxim grimaced, taking on board what Timur said earlier about the condition of the car. He inspected the body for any damage before finding one of the tyres had punctured when it hit the pothole. 

Had they been in top form, they could be back on the road within minutes. Though they were without their fancy tools and Maxim’s fingers were stiff from the cold. After getting the car back on a level surface, they opened the trunk and exchanged weary looks, the kind that communicated a mutual regret for leaving the apartment to begin with.

In subzero temperatures, raising the jack felt a dozen times harder than usual and Maxim let out his frustration in a great puff of mist. He stood up to ease the tension on his back and he regarded Timur with raised brows.

“I wish I could have a helping hand. Maybe my co-driver could help me,” Maxim said and a grin broke through his expression no matter how hard he tried to maintain a straight face. 

They could barely see each other, expressions dimly lit by the shine of Timur’s phone flashlight. He handed Maxim a pair of gloves to help with his grip on the lug wrench. Still standing a couple feet away, Timur tugged his hood back over his head from where it was beginning to slip. A shiver thrummed through his body and the chill ached down to the bone. 

“I’d love to, boss,” he returned the cheek. In truth, he would do anything to get back into the car, though the doctor instructed him to avoid any heavy lifting. “But if I hurt my back again you’ll have to replace me and we both know that can’t happen.” 

Kneeling down, Maxim hummed. “Of course. When you retire, I will have to retire too,” he remembered then gave a grunt as he hauled the wheel to the trunk. With the replacement wheel, he held it close to his body, took slow and cautious steps, afraid to meet the same fate as Timur if he were to slip on ice. As much as they joked about him getting old, Maxim didn’t want to risk breaking his back. 

It turned out that he did miss a turn at some point despite their navigational skills. They found themselves on this tiny road and luckily traffic was not common at these hours otherwise it was inevitable for someone to come careening into their halted car. It would be wise to get moving, though Maxim took the time to regain his breath and warm up. He tossed his dirty gloves to the passenger seat and fiddled to turn off the dome light. 

“It’s that paint,” he muttered between deep inhales and exhales. “Bad luck. We should just stick to red and blue.”

Timur’s laughter was always sweet to the ears. He reached a hand to Maxim’s face to catch his attention and the woollen mitten scratched against his cheek. It was hard to see, but Maxim knew his gaze was soft and fond. Their lips met in a deep kiss that only lasted for several seconds, though it was enough to restore ample warmth to their bodies. 

When they pulled away, Timur brushed the snow from Maxim’s hair and noted the way his nose was reddened from the cold. Ready to make the drive home, Maxim turned the key in the ignition. There was a low rumble, then a sharp silence. He tried again, brows furrowed and the languid smile on his face fading. No luck. Perhaps if their car was painted in their iconic colours, then they wouldn’t have ran into two problems with one accident. 

Maxim drew a breath and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, feeling as if his sanity was beginning to split at the seams. It was this building tension at the base of his neck, the kind that made him reach for his pack of cigarettes. As he fidgeted with his lighter, Timur nudged him.

“Car isn’t gonna fix itself, Basuda.” 

A powerful gust of wind blew out the flame before Maxim could even light his cigarette. Plans foiled once more, he tucked it behind his ear and pocketed his lighter. It took a second to summon the willpower to get up, but knowing they were in this together was a comforting thought and Maxim wouldn’t want Timur to get sick. 

The opened hood of the car greeted Maxim with the ugly sight of the green paint. His lips curled into a mild scowl and bracing himself for the snowstorm, he got out of the driver’s seat.

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is [@CompoundZ8](https://twitter.com/CompoundZ8)  
> My Tumblr is [erc-7](https://erc-7.tumblr.com)


End file.
